


A Wish for Solitude

by Flammenkobold



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Burning, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marking, Monster!Jon, Multi, Post-Apocalypse, Trading Sex for Safety, Voyeurism, for a given value of alive, monster!tim, tim is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:48:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21661693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/pseuds/Flammenkobold
Summary: When they aren't at home, Martin risks pushing the curtains far enough aside to peek outside. He isn't sure what he expects every time he dares to – maybe that something has changed to the last time, maybe that it isn't quite as hellish as he remembers.It still is a world full of monsters, Martin just isn't sure anymore if the monsters outside are so much worse than the ones within the cottage.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 3
Kudos: 92
Collections: Consent Issues Exchange 2019





	A Wish for Solitude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arazsya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arazsya/gifts).



When they aren't at home, Martin risks pushing the curtains far enough aside to peek outside. He isn't sure what he expects every time he dares to – maybe that something has changed to the last time, maybe that it isn't quite as hellish as he remembers. Maybe that the sky won’t look back

The bleak truth is just as terrible as it had been after Eli- Jonah’s ritual went through. A dead world and the only living things in it kept to feed into fear and to die and to be dissected under the uncaring watching Eye.

The lock to the cottage door clicks and Martin lets the curtain fall shut again, giving himself some flimsy protection against the outside. Not that it is of any help, with the monsters being inside.

But no, he mustn't think of them like that. Even if Jon is looking at him unblinkingly, even if Tim's eyes are burning amber. Tim who was dead, and now isn’t. Tim who doesn’t serve the Eye anymore but an equally cruel, if more ostentatious, god. Tim whose return tipped Jon over into embracing something more terrible, who made him more possessive. Or perhaps it was Jon who worsened the path Tim was on already.

“We told you to keep them closed,” Tim says and a waft of burned flesh hits Martin.

“I didn't-”

“Yes, you did,” Jon says, still watching him unblinkingly.

Tim's voice softens. “What do you think would happen if someone notices you?”

“I'd die?” Martin ventures and pushes the thought away how that wouldn't be that bad.

“If you're very, very lucky, “ Tim says and the smile on his face is likely meant to be comforting, but is sickening and too full of glee at best. “Do you know what would happen at worst?”

“Can't say I'm particularly interested in knowing,” Martin says and swallows immediately. He hadn't meant for those words to sound like  _ this _ . “Sorry, I- I didn't- I'm sorry.”

Tim raises an eyebrow at Jon who nods curtly, his gaze still fixed entirely on Martin. “He is.”

Tim laughs, it rolls from his mouth like heat waves. “Don't be.” He saunters over to Martin and winds his arms around him, drawing him into a slow kiss. He can feel Jon's undivided attention on them, drinking in every little motion, every emotion and thought. How Martin wants to recoil but leans into it anyway, the moment when an old terrible sadness sweeps through him, chased away easily by Tim's skilled lips – all of it is dissected and labelled and neatly filed away.

“We can't lose you,” Jon says, like it's an immutable fact and Tim hums in agreement.

Martin has long lost the ability to respond to that in any reasonable way, so he doesn't. “How was your day?” He inquires instead.

“Good!” Tim grins widely at him. “Do you want to hear about it?”

Martin suppresses a wince. He doesn't, not particularly, not after Jon went into  _ details _ the last time he asked, with Tim nearly ecstatic about the recount of their successful feeding of their gods. It's not something he is keen to repeat anytime soon - or ever.

“Maybe later?” He carefully rests his own hands on Tim's waist. “It was very lonely without you,” he says and that, at least, is the truth. Tim's eyes light up in the dim light, nearly literally, and Martin can feel the pulsing heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Now we can't have that, can we?”

“No,” Jon agrees. “We can't.” That admission makes Martin's heart skip a beat and for once it isn't in dread or horror, but one of old, helpless affection.

“Any ideas how we can make you feel less lonely?” Tim mutters against his ear, one of his hands sliding over the small of his back and lower.

“A few.” Martin aims for something that he hopes comes across as coy, but it sounds mostly hollow in his own ears. It seems to work on Tim though, who laughs and turns his head to captures Martin's lips in a searing kiss. It distracts Martin from noticing Jon drifting closer until a cool hand rests over his on Tim's hip. When Tim leans away from the kiss, Martin catches a glimpse of Jon's eyes closed, his mouth pressed against Tim's neck. Even like that he isn't unseeing and the moment is fleeting. Jon's gaze returns to Martin, pinning him effectively where he is standing, more so than Tim's arms around him do. 

Jon knows, but doesn't say anything and Martin wonders if that means he cares. He doesn't know if Tim knows, doesn't want to even contemplate if he would care if he did.

Tim’s changed, even without the obvious things. But ever since he’s turned up again, Jon's been endlessly relieved and doting towards Tim since then, as doting as Jon can be at least, these days. Martin tries to not be jealous over it, never quite managed it, but never quite sure of who he was jealous of to begin with these days. He lets himself be distracted by Tim mouthing against the skin of his throat, breath nearly as hot as boiler steam, he doesn't let it harm Martin though. He never does.

“Bed?” Martin suggests and thinks that Tim might not be convinced easily, but he lets go of Martin slowly. 

“Lead the way,” he says, eyes warm like glowing embers and Martin feels something warm settle in his stomach as well. It nearly hides the knot that's been forming there ever since they came home.

This way it’ll be easier to deal with them.

Even before they reach the bedroom, Martin fumbles with the buttons of his shirt. It's easier this way, easier than letting Tim remove it, at least it makes him feel less self-conscious.

He can still feel Jon's gaze burning metaphorical holes into his backside and when he feels a cool hand push between his shoulder blades, guiding him down onto the bed, his heart lurches again. Jon hardly touches him, never really joins them on the bed either, always more satisfied with watching Tim take Martin apart. As soon the thought slips past, Jon removes his hand and Martin can hear him step back and settle in the old, worn out seat in the corner.

“You look good, Martin,” Tim says and settles himself next to Martin on the bed. To prove his point he settles down to kiss every bit of skin he can reach, his hands drawing burning patterns in the places his lips aren’t leaving faint burn marks. 

It’s all too much from one moment to the next.

This isn’t Tim, not the Tim he knew and liked at least. Martin wishes he could make himself disappear, wishes for some quiet, wishes - Tim’s hand burns against his flesh, not burning it yet, but a threat nonetheless.

“Don’t,” Jon commands and Martin can’t do anything but to obey.

“Stay with us,” Tim murmurs into the skin of his shoulder and his breath is as hot as desert air. 

Martin lets out a shaky breath. “I’m here,” he says, despite how much he sometimes wishes he wasn’t. A lifetime ago this could’ve been bliss. Perhaps in another lifetime it might still be.

Tim lifts his head, grin on his face that’s too bright. “There you are.” He kisses Martin hard and fast and it steals the air from Martin’s lungs for a moment, until the kiss slows down, becomes languid and molten hot like lava. An undefinable noise escapes Martin and he kisses back, gives as good as he got.

He more feels than sees Jon approving of it, even if he couldn’t say how. Maybe the way he shifts in his seat and leans forward, maybe he let out a soft noise of his own, maybe it’s just a change in the way he  _ watches _ .

It does something to Martin though, it always does. It doesn’t go unnoticed, neither by Jon or Tim. Tim snorts in amusement but thankfully doesn’t comment on it. He just reaches down between Martin’s legs, where he is now half hard already. Tim’s hand on his cock quickly does the rest. The warmth of it for once not too hot to be painful and Tim’s talented fingers exerting just enough pressure.

“ _ There _ you are,” Tim teases him, his thumb running over the leaking tip of Martin’s cock. Martin gasps and his fingers dig into Tim’s skin. If he can pretend for just a bit longer that this is the Tim he wants, that this is what he wants exactly and not just a mockery of everything. If he clings to this hard enough he can even ignore that Jon watches them too intently, that he never blinks anymore, how he looks at them less with desire and more with hunger for knowledge, dissecting every movement, every gasp, every twitch Martin’s body makes under Tim’s hand and lips.

Tim gets him off fast, skilled fingers teasing him just right, just so, tipping him over the edge. Afterwards he just lazily draws patterns on Martin’s skin, some marks will stay for days, and Martin wonders if eventually he’ll leave him with something more permanent. Not before Jon allows it, and Martin dreads the day that he will. 

Tim rarely gets off too, not much interested in his own completion, when he can instead bask in how ruined he makes Martin feel, and the staccato rhythm of Martin’s heart beating fast under his skin.

This is when Jon usually joins them on the bed. Which he does, without fail, this time as well. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t need to sleep anymore, or that Tim doesn’t either. He sits down on the bed and kisses first Tim and then Martin, and a small part of Martin resents it. Then he settles himself next to Martin, watching as Tim does the same on Martin’s other side.

Like this Martin is cocooned in between them, caged and yet also protected. Martin can still feel their heartbeats. A small thing, but one that gives him the faintest sliver of hope.

He’ll endure. He’ll endure and he’ll find a way out and he’ll find a way to either get both Jon and Tim back or to lay them to rest properly. 

He has to.


End file.
